Sweetwater Sirens call from the black
Their winter gumbo in need of my head
With its old man's mental allspice
My secret recipe
You were the novel I had
somewhere on my book shelf
(i never read you)
the one I wanted my arms
to wrap around some day.
(I never held you)
I wanted to feel the weight
of your spine
(how heavy was your cross?)
to let your words
send shivers
down mine.
(tell me how hard you fought.)
I wanted to see how
your sleeve
caught the sun’s rays
(I didn't see you at all)
in a hot-as-an-oven July,
on a warm-as-ever August day.
I wanted to crash
into your world,
and crawl beneath its sky.
(I should have)
Oh but how I hate spoilers,
don’t we all?
I hate them.
I hated the finding out;
(life cheats us all)
I hated the shapes my mouth made.
Saturdays hurt now.
October smarts my tongue,
it’s too cold.
I was told
that you were
(too cold)
because
like oral tradition,
your
circulation
stopped
Fuck ‘the end’ and
all the ‘never agains’
I will always
love y—
Rid of emotion, isolated
It's your own fault, they say
The voices in your mind echoing
Busy, forever occupied
But for what? you have no friends
they taunt.
You cry under the covers
Sob into sleep
next day claim you got soap in your eyes
not that anyone cares
not that you've got anyone to talk to
more like you shut yourself from the world
Why not let it out instead
you do have love, and love many, so many -
but they don't know
don't know at all.
they think you're cold.
cold and colourless.
i found myself
with bits of skin beneath my fingernails
knees pressing into couch cushions
curled up fetal position
star-visioned
tears turning to acid
i've cried too much - i need to stop
writing a letter without mentioning love
but seeing my emotions watermarking the page
this is my nightmare
three pills in my hand
smooth rough smooth
bulbous elliptical flat
falling in love - falling into a fitful sleep
falling into the place I miss most
staring impossibility in his eyes
a feral cat sized as wolf lunges
slashing open my chest
there are bits of skin beneath my fingernails
i am lucid in my nightmare
pressing my knees into the chest of my friend
nudging me every so often to be sure i'm still alive
curled up fetal position heavy lidded vision
this is my nightmare
in the house of my family lost years ago
running down an extending hallway
master bedroom - master bathroom
door locked behind me
bits of skin beneath my fimgernails
disappointment heavy shoulders
sand dollar scabs bloom on my mirrored face
this is my nightmare
waking down asleep
falling up gasping on the floor
pain spreading - chest caving
i crawl into my bed anxiety soaked
cocooned in comforter - pressing back into wall
pretending wall is alive - taking comfort in that
but there are still o - positive stains on my face
this is my nightmare
i am glass eyed anthropomorphic iceberg
red handed with bits of my own skin
beneath my fingernails
fresh lattices on my back
angry nerves babbling insanity
to my unresponsive brain
a shadow crashes into me
plunges into my chest
i kick into consciousness
i find myself with bits
of my own skin beneath my fingernails
cold wall behind me
this is my nightmare
Would my child be born to me,
with Papal's chin and Mother's glee?
would growth be short to just my height,
or taller still above my sight?
would hair be dark or feather light,
and curl to hip or be cut slight?
My child I wonder what you'd be,
a one to win and set men free?
Upon my arms to feel you now,
you suckle with small furrowed brow.
No whines you make with chin up turned,
your eyes so heavy my tickles spurn.
I see you on the first bus ride,
to school with others I wave goodbye.
You do real good and letters cite,
your curious thought full of appetite.
My cheek a tear as I see you off,
but you hop right up your hair a toss.
Then onward years I'm standing by,
as he stands before you smiling bright.
Your dress so smooth the flowers twinkle,
the dance your first, you go I sprinkle
tears land but happy thoughts I have,
your smile is all I want to have.
The years roll on and there you are,
all dressed in white me on your arm.
We're walking down the aisle all blue,
The young man looks and grins at you.
You say your vows, to him be true,
Your heart a gift, you glow anew.
Now on my death bed say goodbye,
no tears of sadness set thoughts aside,
I wish you smile, I come right too,
My thanks for love and years with you.
My child unborn in heaven still,
My womb no good, the dreams askew,
I'll never hold you till once we meet,
at heavens gate where me you'll greet.
- Trish 2009
Configuring yourself with binary code and timestamps confused by the wedges of the world didn’t have to make you heartless
you preserved that in saltwater,
killed it,
by yourself
and it is unforgivable to blame for when the clock strikes 2 AM and you are still at 3 hours behind.
You are a bleached body with chemically submerged innocence, stating it has been stained when you’ve soaked it and never rung it to try and dry.
The broken aren’t the broken until they’ve been healed
or disappear trying to.
If suicide is a sin, you wouldn't have outweighed God piling mesh sashes at His feet,
convincing him what you say is what you mean to say
--you have no approximation of what you intend.
we wend through webs
of cobbled communication
worked carefully to window
our weaves confluence with
writ, winding our wisdoms
with coloured wool
we card and we weave
patterns of wrought
welds, to wrap weak corners
cushion weariness and
coddle wisps of wondering
with comfort.. we crave
creativity in a cadenced weft,
while we contrive the
warp to carry our weight
of whispered confessions
wending, in the cloudy cobwebs
of cobbled communion.
Close your eyes and weave
a chairde* the consolation
of words crooning in confluence,
woven and writ.
(*ah cawr-de… my friends)
You see the stones
every day-
you see the
mortar.
You recognise
these things. You think
you know
the rock I come from,
the bare hard earth
I was ripped from.
You miss
everything.
You do not see
the hands that found me,
their grasping fingers
that probed
and pulled
and
uprooted me
Split me into
many many many
of myself
brought me
and taught me
how to stand upright
with the others my ego-shadows,
my
brothers.
You do not see
the hands that chiseled me,
their fine delicate strokes
laying a tracery of lines
across my skin,
the very lines
you follow
with your
subconscious
eye.
You do not see
the hands that laid me,
caressed my hard edges
and new soft skin,
placed me,
above
between
beneath
myself, held firm
so you could cross
my tightrope embrace.
You- dare not see
the rift in the earth
I
am
bent
over,
the sinuous slant
of the river,
Sister Time.
The slow
shifting of sediments;
the necessity for my existence,
my eventual demise.
You see me,
a rock.
I am a bridge,
a path,
a history.
I am a tale
told in the half light
from a man
to his son.
I am majesty
and mystery.
I am the infinite
limit
of memory-
I am
all that you will never see-
and more besides.
A hard pill
I have to
Swallow
But to swallow
I must.
Of bitter truth and
Harsh reality
That happiness and bliss
In the arms of a
Faithful lover
Is not the destiny
I am meant to live
So I shall live
The rising and setting suns
With force smile and laughter
Echoing through
The plastic trees
In my own
Little
Paradise